


Your Hero's Destined To Waver

by wajjs



Series: Across The Universe (vld fics) [8]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Batman AU, Batman: Under The Red Hood AU, M/M, Mild Blood, Shangst Week 2017, Torture, Violence, mentions/descriptions of wounds, shangst, warnings for:
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-20 02:21:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11326647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wajjs/pseuds/wajjs
Summary: Dusting off your savior,Forgiving any behavior.He's just a man, all in a hand.Lance gets captured and nothing is quite alright.—For Shangst Week 2017.  Day Four:Captivity/Gladiator Ring





	Your Hero's Destined To Waver

**Author's Note:**

> Title and beginning quote of the summary come from a RHCP song named "Savior"
> 
> PLEASE, BEFORE READING, **MIND THE WARNINGS**!! This AU is based on the DC Comics animated movie titled "Batman: Under The Red Hood", but the majority of the events written here come from "Death In The Family". Having said this, I _will_ write a continuation that will be based around the actual events of "Under The Red Hood", but before doing so I wanted to practice how to write this AU in general. Hence, this story.
> 
> To any DC fans that might have stumbled upon this story, I apologize. This is the first time I tackle this story arc and this AU in general, and many things will be different from the original source (I'm not _rewriting_ and just changing the names, I'm creating an AU based on it, so changes are to be expected).
> 
> I know I'm working with a very iconic story arc in Batman, though, so I'll be as careful and respectful as possible.
> 
> Once again, MIND THE WARNINGS! My description of torture isn't as explicit as it surely could've been, but I still get a little bit into detail.

 

~~~~

**Your Hero’s Destined To Waver**

 

 

   One. Two. Three.

   Again and again and again. 

   The crowbar comes down on him

   again and again and again.

 

   The Joker laughs above him.

   His left eye is swollen shut by now, his wrists are dislocated, so many ribs are broken.  He knows that if by some kind of miracle the Joker were to leave him alone at that precise moment, getting away from that damned warehouse would involve waves after waves of pain.

   He bites his lips until they’re swollen and bleeding.  He gags on his own blood but has no time to cough.  Manic laughter rings in his ears and echoes against the four walls.

   A sickening crunch is the noise his ankle makes when it is snapped in two.  He bites down on his lips harder, trying his very best not to scream.  There is little relief in being successful when he knows that to the Joker it doesn’t mean a thing.

 

   “Tell me, kiddo,” The Joker asks with the ages old sinister grin etched to his sickly thin face, “which one hurts more.  A?”  And now the crowbar connects with his already fractured ribs.

   Fire explodes from within.  He squeezes the one eye he could still keep open shut.

   He knows, deep down, that this is all his fault.

 

   “Or B?”  And the Joker laughs so delighted as he hits him across the face, on the center of his chest, on his spine when he inevitably tries to curl up.

 

   Again and again and again,

   the crowbar comes down on him

   again and again and again.

 

   A kick to his stomach is followed by ten more.  He cannot breathe, he can’t really think, all he can do is swallow his cries of pain and wait for rescue to come.  It was all his fault, he knew, but surely his family wouldn’t leave him alone now, right?

   Right?

   The Joker’s laughing still.  If he could, he would tell him so many things.  Curses, mainly.  Probably.  He could feel his jaw bruising, his swollen eye closed shut and throbbing.  He had lost sensation on both hands, and with each new hit his ankle jostled, sending searing waves of mind-numbing pain throughout his over-sensitive nerves.

   If only he hadn’t gone and try to do everything alone.  If only he had managed to push aside his stupid pride and ask for help then he knew he wouldn’t have ended up like this.  Captive, and within the Joker’s deadly grasp.

 

   Struggling to breathe, he barely noticed over his screaming thoughts that the deranged man had thrown the piece of sturdy metal on the floor, his feet now carrying him away from the boy that was barely more than a broken heap of bones.

   HIs laughter still resonated hauntingly all over the warehouse.  The sound made the boy flinch, trying in vain to get away.  The sound was one that would chase him forever.

   The Joker’s saying something now, but the boy can no longer hear him.  It is obvious, oh so obvious, that he’s looking for a way to escape once the madman leaves.  It only makes him laugh more and more, louder, cackling as he unlocks the only door of the warehouse and steps into the freezing world outside.

   For only a moment the boy manages to catch a glimpse of the whitest snow falling down softly from the clouded sky.  It is only a glimpse and then the door is closed once more.  He can hear the locks being secured again, he can still hear the echoes of that delusional cackling.

 

   Any minute now, the boy— _ Lance _ thinks.

   Any minute now Batman is going to come and rescue him.

   And Lance cannot help but think of the first Robin, that boy he admires and adores so much.  He thinks of Shiro and of the prodigy he is.  It makes his own pride ache, knowing that he had been reduced to such a pitiful state.  Thinking of Shiro —of what Shiro would do— is enough to give him strength once more.

   Squeezing his eyes shut, Lance rolls onto his stomach and—screams.  Nothing, no kind of intensive training could have ever prepared him for that kind of pain.  He feels like throwing up—bile is already lurching up his throat, but he forces himself to swallow it down.  He doesn’t have much time to lose and he knows that if he gives into the pain then he wouldn’t be able to reach that damned door.

   The memory of Shiro is a beacon of strength he desperately holds onto.  It’s the only memory he has at that moment that hasn’t been tainted still, so he clings onto it and gathers whatever remains he has left of fortitude and energy.  Everything in his body is screaming at him to stop, but he doesn’t.  He cannot give up now.  He won’t give up now.  And like that he starts crawling, inch by inch getting closer to his only way of escape.

   Until he sees it.

   Until he hears it.

 

   Above the door there’s a timer and the red numbers are ticking, the new ones eating the ones that were there before.

   The count goes down fast, so fast.  There are only seconds —a handful of them— left.

 

   That is when Lance realizes that help won’t ever reach him because it is still well on its way.

   That’s when Lance realizes that holding onto hope, onto the thought of Shiro, had been in vain.

   For the first time in his short and chaotic life, Lance does the one thing he had once promised himself he would never do.

   Exhaling softly, Lance closes his eyes and gives up.

 

°°

 

   You died how you lived:

Alone.

 

°°

 

   Shiro cannot even continue listening to whatever words Coran is managing to say between muffled sobs.

   All that registers in his still young mind as he lets his phone fall to the floor is one fact, one truth that makes his blood freeze and his eyes fill with tears:

   Lance, his Lance, his little wing is… gone.

 

°°°

 

**Author's Note:**

> In case it wasn't clear (?), Lance is the second Robin (he'll become Red Hood later on), Shiro is the first Robin (soon to be Nightwing), Coran is the equivalent of Alfred. Who's Batman, well, you'll have to guess for now :-). For this au, there's an age difference of 3 years between Lance and Shiro, Shiro being older.


End file.
